You have put your two hands upon me, and your mouth, <br />You have said my name as a prayer. <br />Here where trees are planted by the water <br />I have watched your eyes, cleansed from regret, <br />And your lips, closed over all that love cannot say, <br /> <br />My mother remembers the agony of her womb <br />And long years that seemed to promise more than this. <br />She says, "You do not love me, <br />You do not want me, <br />You will go away." <br /> <br /> In the country whereto I go <br /> I shall not see the face of my friend <br /> Nor her hair the color of sunburnt grasses; <br /> Together we shall not find <br /> The land on whose hills bends the new moon <br /> In air traversed of birds. <br /> <br />What have I thought of love? <br />I have said, "It is beauty and sorrow." <br />I have thought that it would bring me lost delights, and splendor <br />As a wind out of old time . . . <br /> <br />But there is only the evening here, <br />And the sound of willows <br />Now and again dipping their long oval leaves in the water.<br /><br />Louise Bogan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/betrothed/
